


Invincible

by ithilien22



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-25
Updated: 2009-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithilien22/pseuds/ithilien22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to the Feb. 23 episode of As the World Turns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invincible

Holden sits down heavily at the kitchen table, stress and concern etched across his features. He can’t help wondering if he was too hard on Luke this afternoon, if he pushed it too far. Even though he tries to tell himself that he’s being ridiculous, there’s still always that underlying fear – that he’ll do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing, and that Luke will simply turn away from him, spit the horrible truth back in his face: _you’re not my father._

The nagging fear is even stronger these days, after he already came so close to losing Luke’s trust when his affair with Carly was exposed. But the fact remains that he’s really worried about Luke and he’s at a complete loss for how to reach him. At least Noah, Luke’s boyfriend, seems just as concerned by Luke’s actions as Holden is. He just wonders if even Noah can get through to Luke right now.

Coming to a decision, Holden stands from the chair and starts up towards Luke’s bedroom, determined to try to talk to his son at least one more time today. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he notices that Luke’s door is closed, which is rather unusual. He doesn’t remember seeing Noah leave, so he clears his throat and knocks gently, not thrilled with the idea of walking in on his son in bed with someone. When he doesn’t hear any response, he calls out Luke’s name through the door, loudly. Still nothing.

By now Holden’s concern and regret are quickly turning back into anger at the stubborn petulance of his twenty year-old son. _Is he really going to pretend he can’t hear me?_ Holden fumes silently.

* * *

“Look, I know how much you’re hurting over Reg’s death, I really do,” Noah says, reaching out for Luke’s hand in a gesture of support. Over the past hour, they’ve managed to move from the living room to the porch and back again, then finally up to Luke’s room, but the topic of conversation has remained exactly the same. Noah takes a deep breath before continuing, “but me and your dad and everyone, we’re just worried about you, okay? We don’t want to see you do anything…self-destructive.”

“Self-destructive?” Luke snaps back. He pulls his hand out of Noah’s grasp.

“Well, what would you call all of this vigilante stuff you’ve been doing, Luke?” Noah asks, his frustration palpable. “You could have gone to jail! And I just can’t even…I mean, what the hell would I have done if that had happened? I can’t lose you, Luke.”

In response to this statement – Noah’s mantra of the past few days – Luke flops down into the big blue armchair in the corner of the room, covering his face with his hands. He says something, but the sound is too muffled for Noah to make out the words.

“What?” he asks.

When Luke lowers his hands and looks up at him, Noah can see the beginnings of tears in his boyfriend’s eyes. “I talked to Tony yesterday,” Luke says, his voice coming out impossibly small. “He had some of Reg’s stuff that he couldn’t…that he thought I might like.”

Noah lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, all of his frustration disappearing instantly. He gently lowers himself onto the arm of Luke’s chair, waiting patiently for him to continue. “He was just so…it was like he still couldn’t believe it,” Luke says. “He was wearing a sweatshirt, you know? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a sweatshirt. So it was probably, you know, it was probably one of Reg’s. And he just looked so small in it. So…broken.”

Noah places his arm around Luke’s shoulders as he speaks and squeezes softly, not sure what to say. Luke turns a bit and rests his head in Noah’s lap, and Noah’s hands curl into his hair with gentle familiarity. Noah hears Luke’s breath catch just slightly and he realizes that Luke is trying his best not to cry.

“What if it had been you?” Luke whispers finally, voice painful and rough. “It’s all I can think about. What if it had been you on the floor at Yo’s? What if it had been me and Reg at the hospital, waiting for the doctor to come out and tell us that you were…that you were…” Luke breaks off on a sob and Noah’s heart constricts painfully. _Oh._

“Hey,” Noah murmurs softly, lifting Luke’s head from his lap so that he can look at his boyfriend. Luke’s face is a splotchy red and his cheeks are streaked with tears. Before Noah can say anything, Luke grabs at his shirt, tugging him down into the chair and onto Luke’s lap. The kiss is forceful, desperate. Luke clutches at Noah’s back, trying to pull him closer, tighter.

The moment stretches out – all the pain, the grief, the uncertainty gets lost in the reassurance of touch, the press of skin, the warm heat of tongues and spit. Luke’s fingers slide under Noah’s shirt and dig into the curve of his hip. Noah’s hand is still tangled in Luke’s hair, but a firm grip replaces the gentle movements from a moment ago, keeping them both anchored. There’s no more accusations and lies and talking in circles, there’s just touch and need and escape.

When the kiss finally breaks, they stay locked together, as close as possible. Noah reaches for the button on Luke’s jeans, lowers the zipper. “Want you,” he whispers, places a kiss at the corner of Luke’s jaw as his hand rubs Luke’s erection through his underwear. Luke moans low in his throat.

“I don’t have anything,” Luke says, hips snapping up, desperate for more contact. “It’s all…nnngh, fuck. It’s all in my bag downstairs.”

“Don’t care. Need you.” Noah kisses Luke thrillingly hard, moves his hand in order to grind his own erection down against Luke’s. The kiss breaks on a mutual groan and Noah stands up from the chair, hands moving frantically to get rid of his jeans. Luke leans back in the chair watching him, eyes dark. When Noah’s underwear joins his jeans on the floor, Luke reaches forward and grabs his hips, drawing him back into his lap. Noah kisses him slow and wet, then takes his hand and draws it to his mouth, working his skillful tongue against two of Luke’s fingers. Noah sucks at Luke’s fingers like he’s giving a blow job and Luke can’t help the tiny whimper that escapes his lips at the sight.

After a moment, Noah releases Luke’s hand, guides him down underneath. Luke circles Noah’s hole with a wet finger before slowly slipping it inside. Spit isn’t the same as lube though, and Luke stills his movements when he catches Noah’s wince. “S’okay,” Noah murmurs, forehead pressed against Luke’s. “Just…fuck, need you.”

Luke captures Noah’s lips in a kiss as he slips another finger inside, working them both to stretch Noah out, to open him up. “Need you so fucking much,” Luke answers, never faltering in his movements. “Need you all the fucking time.” Noah gives a deep rumbling groan when Luke hits that spot inside of him, and he tries to push himself down farther onto Luke’s fingers.

“Fuck,” Noah gasps, as Luke’s fingers find the spot again and again. “Now, Luke. God, right now.”

Luke draws back but then hesitates, not knowing what to do. Noah climbs off the chair for a moment, but only to kneel in front of it, tugging Luke’s jeans and briefs down past his knees. He grabs Luke’s cock and gives it a few forceful strokes before plunging his mouth down over it, working it the same way he worked Luke’s fingers earlier. Luke’s eyes roll back and his fingers clutch at Noah’s short hair when he feels his cock hit the back of his boyfriend’s throat. “So good, baby,” he breathes. “So good.”

Noah can feel Luke nearing the edge, so he pulls back, climbs once more into the chair with Luke. He realizes that neither one of them even properly took their shirts off, but he can’t bring himself to care. He reaches out for Luke’s cock, still wet with his own spit, and guides himself down, lowering onto it slowly. Once Luke is buried all the way inside of him, they both just breathe for a moment, clinging to each other. Noah’s cheek brushes Luke’s and he realizes that Luke is crying again. Maybe he never stopped.

Noah’s tongue darts out to lick away one of the tears and he shifts against Luke, rocking his hips just slightly. Luke moans loudly and moves his hands to Noah’s ass, pulling them both closer, deeper. “I love you,” Luke whispers, voice thick. Noah’s breath catches and he starts to move in earnest, slamming himself down on Luke’s cock, pushing towards the release they both desperately need.

They move together – maybe minutes, maybe hours. Their mouths connect again, slow and sweet compared to the frantic rocking of their bodies. A tear falls from Luke’s cheek and lands on Noah’s cock and Noah’s hand clutches Luke’s hip hard enough to leave a bruise. “I love you too,” he says.

Luke shifts his position, and Noah groans loudly. “So close,” Luke breathes, just before Noah feels his release shoot inside of him. Luke’s hips stutter and it’s all Noah can do to hold on as his orgasm hits unexpectedly, his come falling between them in long ribbons.

They stay that way for a long time, neither wanting to give up the closeness. When Noah finally starts to pull up Luke stops him with a slow kiss, keeping Noah seated for at least a few moments longer. They can’t stay that way forever though, and eventually Noah pulls back, Luke’s cock slipping out of him along with a trail come that drips down Noah’s thigh. They both know that they should get up, clean up, take a shower or something, but instead they stay curled up in the chair, still too vulnerable, too scared to separate.

Luke wants to say something about what just happened, about the way he’s been acting, about Reg – but he doesn’t know where to start. As if in answer to Luke’s thoughts, Noah wraps an arm around him and presses a kiss to his sweaty brow. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together,” he says softly.

Luke grabs Noah’s other hand and locks it with his, stares down at the threaded fingers. “Promise?” he asks.

“I promise.”

* * *

Finally fed up with waiting, Holden opens the door and walks into Luke’s room, trying to prepare himself for round two of the big fight. But the scene that meets his eyes isn’t at all what he expects, and he feels his anger fade out of him almost the moment he enters the room.

Curled up in the old, overstuffed armchair are Luke and Noah, both fast asleep, with Luke’s red comforter draped haphazardly across them. Luke’s cheeks are streaked red, as if he’d been crying, and Noah’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders. They look like such _boys_ in that moment, peaceful and in love, with the sense of invincibility that all twenty year-olds seem to have. When the floor board under Holden’s feet creaks slightly, Noah’s protective hold on Luke tightens.

Holden backs out of the room as quietly as possible, careful to shut the door gently behind him. He takes a deep breath, and some of the tension he didn’t even realize he was carrying starts to melt from his shoulders.

He knows he won’t ever be able to stop worrying about Luke completely – that’s just part of being a father. Still, it’s comforting to know that whatever problems Luke has to face, at least he won’t have to face them alone.


End file.
